Rose always looks so small, soft, and fragile to me.
It hurt like hell and she felt heavier than a rock when she ran into me when I came home.
It was only the bruises and scratches that made her feel this way on impact. She felt soft and fragile again after she let go and touched a hand to my cheek.
"Can't you go one day without getting into fist fights Belikov?" she asked turning my face from side to side to get a good look at the number Ambrose did on me.
"You should see the other guy," I tried to joke. It hurt when I laughed though and it came out in a wince and groan of pain.
She pulled my jacket off and took my bag and the lunch bag from me.
"You didn't even eat your lunch," she said sounding hurt.
"I assure you, it's only because of what happened. I would have eaten it if I had the chance to," I told her honestly.
She set the bad down, taking my hand and pulling me to the couch.
She stood on her toes to reach my shoulders and push me down so that I'd sit on the couch. She went to the bathroom to get a first aid kit.
She sat on the coffee table in front of me and wet a cloth to wipe whatever blood I head away.
"What did happen?" She asked worried. "I was right wasn't I? They came after you?"
"No. Kirova pissed Ambrose off and he took it out on my face." I recounted the story of today. When I finished her full lips pulled up at the sides into one of those beautiful smiles. "He went after her but end up coming after you because you were trying to be Mr. Do The Right Thing," she said laughing at the end.
"Basically. Have some sympathy, I'm hurt here," I joked. I put my hand to my head pretending I was in oh so much pain.
She smiles and continued dabbing the cloth to my forehead where there was a stinging cut.
"Men are such babies," she commented. "Seriously," she started, our laughter fading. "Are you okay?"
"I'm good. I barely feel it," I lied.
She touched the side of my cheek where I took a strong hit and I flinched.
"Right. Trying to be all macho," she muttered holding an ice pack to my cheek. "Why cant men just show their sensitive sides?"
I smiled remembering the photo of Christian in a grass skirt and a coconut bikini. "If you really want to see a man with a sensitive side, the same guy that would label any guy a wuss or whipped for trying to have a relationship before meeting Lissa, check my phone. There's a picture of Christian I'm sure will surprise you."
She dug around in the pocket of my coat pulling my phone out.
She laughed out right at the picture.
A look of uncertainty crossed her face when she stopped laughing.
"I don't know whether to be afraid, nauseous, or envious of the power Lissa must have over him."
"All three," I answered.
She put the phone down and went back to attending to my wounds.
"I feel like you're coddling over me, something a nurse would do…or my mother," I said after a few minutes.
"I just want you to be okay," she answered honestly. "I was worried."
"You're always worried," I teased.
She smiled and dipped the cloth in water again.
"Lissa says it's a blessing and a fault."
"I think it's a good thing. It's what makes you Rose."
We adjusted and moved so she could reach a cut at the tip of my hairline, with her moving beside me on the couch. It took all of the will power in the world to ignore the feelings I felt with her so close to me.
Stop fidgeting, I told my self.
"That's sweet. I just hope one day I can't stop worrying. I won't have to look over my shoulder every second."
This sounded so much like our conversation at Disney Land and we all know how that ended. It was going to be different now, though.
Fresh start, I remembered.
Hopefully that went for everything including me telling her that we couldn't be together or act on any feelings.
"You won't have to," I replied after a while when I realized she'd been waiting for me to respond.
She smiled and carefully put a thin nude colored bandage on the cut. She let her finger rest there and brushed her thumb along the wound. I let her hand stay there taking in the feeling of her closeness.
It felt good and comforting.
I wanted more of those feelings.
I pulled her arm down, wrapping my hands around her small wrist. Her skin was silky soft to the touch, tanned the color of cream.
I took a hold of her other wrist, gently, an electric pulse vibrating down my arms. Her eyes widened more than their usual brightness.
She could feel it too the warm electric attraction.
Her eyes, heavy lidded, looked up from their gaze at my lips and met my own eyes.
"I thought that we couldn't…" She said in a whisper.
"We shouldn't," I told her honestly.
She nodded barely and leaned in to me.
After the disastrous morning at Disney Land and the horrific night that followed, I thought I'd never feel the delicate feeling of Rose's lips against my own. They were as soft as brushing one's lips against a flower's petal. I couldn't help my self.
I couldn't resist pushing the kiss further.
I moved forward against her, pressing her down against the couch. Her back arched and her lips stopped, surprised but she continued the kiss after a seconds hesitation, deepening it.
It started slow at first but grew into much more with however many minutes passed .An entire year might have passed, the world could have ended but we were too lost in our own private world.
And with each moment's passing, Rose and I grew closer than we had with all of the conversations we'd had put together.
Anytime she seemed unsure of what to do I'd kiss her again, on the cheek, the nose, the side of her neck or her lips where she wore her most beautiful smile.